


Our Final Chapter

by OhLookMoreFanFiction



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Apocalypse, Best Friends, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Pre-Canon, extra, together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 18:00:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8337391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhLookMoreFanFiction/pseuds/OhLookMoreFanFiction
Summary: Bellamy prepares for the looming apocalypse by bearing his burdens alone. Will Clarke and him be able to reconcile, facing certain death... together?





	1. Apart

The delinquents had sealed every crack in the bunker and piled as much sod on top of the metal roof as they could. But the cloud was still coming. It didn’t seem to be moving that swiftly until it tipped over the mountain peak last night, and then… then it roared like a freight train, barreling down toward the camp.

**The cloud meant acid. The cloud meant no oxygen. The cloud meant death.**

* * *

She had found him slumped in the cafeteria the night before, staring blankly at the meager rations he’d allowed to grow cold. He didn’t stir as she approached, recognizing the click of her boots.

“What’s going on with you? It’s coming, Bellamy. We’re as ready as we can be. I thought you’d be acting less defeated. Why are you down here all alone?”

Clarke stood in front of him, leaning over to rest both her fists on the long cafeteria table. Her voice echoed in the hall that had emptied of people hours ago. His eyes hadn’t left his mush, but his brow furrowed when she said “defeated”.

“You counted, Bellamy. Every pair of lungs in this camp has a mask. You did your job. Why don’t you go be the hero and give our people the pep talk they need to get through the worst of it?”

His eyes fluttered up to hers, weak and glassy in the low light. He squinted them a bit, sizing up her face and lips parting a fraction. But he didn’t say a word. He slowly rose, heaving his leg over the bench and grabbing his bag before walking toward the Exit sign.

It was sudden, the way she realized it. It felt like jumping into a pool after being in a hot tub for too long. It rushed over her like ice, and she barely got his name out: “BELLAMY.”

He stopped instantly because he knew she knew. His head tilted back toward her, and then Bellamy turned to face the dragon.

“You counted. YOU... COUNTED. Bellamy, you signed the sheet. You said there were enough masks! You – “

“There were never enough, Clarke!” He hadn’t meant to shout, but that’s exactly what he did. He needed to put her out of her misery. “This is an apocalypse on a bombed planet, not the Ark Guard Supply. We don’t have the metal, the filters… Raven was lucky to piece together what masks she DID complete…” Bellamy’s voice trailed off and his eyes sunk to the floor, the weight of those about to die pressing down on him again.

She paused, stilling her wavering voice before asking flatly, “How short? How short are we, Bellamy?”

His eyes met hers, darting back and forth between the eye that was more blue and the one that was more green. His face grimaced like someone had pinched him.

“Nineteen,” Bellamy let out soundlessly.

Her face went a little white, eyes wide in the wash of shock. She had told them all just this morning... Looked her people in the eyes and told them the masks would be in the loading bay when the time came.

Clarke was powerless and she knew it. She walked towards him, eyes piercing him as she got closer. She only stopped when they were toe to toe.

“You don’t have to do this alone, Bellamy. You never had to bear this burden by yourself. We’ll get through this. Somehow. We always do.”

He looked up at the ceiling, trying to keep the tears in his sockets. He finally stooped down to one knee, setting his bag on the ground and undoing the zipper carefully. She let out a breath that was almost a laugh when she saw it. Bellamy clutched his prize and rose to his feet again, reaching down for her hand. She ripped it away.

“You really think this is how this works? You think you can steal a mask for me to try and dull your guilt?” Clarke’s eyes were on fire as she pointed a finger at him and seethed. “You don’t get to decide if I live. If anyone dies tomorrow, Bellamy, it’s ME.” She hadn’t meant to yell either, but somehow it had ended that way.

“Clarke – “ He cut himself off, not knowing how to say it. “Please, Clarke. Let me do this for you.”

Clarke knew when to cut her losses. She knew when a fight couldn’t be won. She searched his eyes a moment longer, watching his pupils grow wide in agony. That’s when she reached a hand out and snatched the mask, turning on her heel and stomping toward the door.

She shouted over her shoulder, “MAY WE MEET AGAIN,” and disappeared around the corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I first thought of "But you counted!" and now we're here. This is why we can't have nice things.  
> Find me on Tumblr - @teambingewatch
> 
> Click through to the next chapter!


	2. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Clarke face the apocalypse head on.

In no time at all, they couldn’t say that the apocalypse was coming “tomorrow”. The hour hand had ticked away, and not so suddenly, all life on earth was in danger of ending “today”. The sky was dark as pitch, and patches of silence were a nice relief from the constant screaming of those hiding below the ground. Clarke let the hatch fall shut beneath her with an empty thud. The screams were instantly gone, and she almost felt at peace.

* * *

She glanced toward the camp gate and saw him leaning against the guard hut. He’d hung his jacket on a nail and was staring blankly at the storm swirling ever closer. Bellamy didn’t hear the hatch. The wind was blaring, and it licked locks of his dark hair up from time to time. What captivated Clarke the most was that he looked so calm. She beheld a man who’d accepted his fate.

He finally heard the crunch of her boot on the gravel and whipped his head around. His eyes bulged.

“What are you – Where’s your mask? Why are you –“ he was so distraught he couldn’t form sentences. But Bellamy saw the rebellion in her eyes. The unflinching, eerie stillness that his own face had boasted just a moment ago.  He knew immediately that fighting her was fruitless. He’d cut his losses too. They’d greet death together.

They stood shoulder to shoulder, shifting their hands around as they watched trees in the forest fall from the approaching acid rain. Bellamy thought a courtesy was warranted.

“Where’s your mask?”

“My mom.” She wanted to reciprocate, no matter how pointless. “Where’s yours…”

“You know it’s with O.”

He concentrated a little too hard on a boulder outside the gate as he reached down to graze her pinky with his thumb and forefinger. She didn’t hesitate, lacing her tiny fingers into his large ones. If she had to write the final chapter of her life, she’d want to go down holding her best friend’s hand. But the thought of her chapter ending – the thought of fighting so ruthlessly and burying so many along the way – the wave of truth blocked her throat with a sob.

Bellamy felt her hand tense up. Before he could look over, she stepped in front of him and threw her arms around his neck. Like many months ago when they reunited in this same spot, he hesitated before throwing his arms around her waist. She bunched his jacket in her fists, squeaking and whimpering as he watched the cloud eat the paint off an abandoned Rover a few hundred yards out.

Then he heard it, whispered through gritted teeth into his lapel.

“This isn’t supposed to happen. I should get to love you longer than this.” It had squeezed out of her, like someone was sitting on her chest.

One of his hands crept up to cup the back of her head, and the other hand clenched her bottom row of ribs. He tilted his mouth to whisper right into her ear: “Yeah, well I’ve loved you for years.”

He said it so easily – accepting that consequences didn’t matter anymore because they were as good as dead. She leaned back, pulling her head out of the crook of his neck.

“What?” Before he could repeat it, one of the camp buildings quavered in the tornado winds, and after groaning loudly, it collapsed in on itself. Bellamy watched Clarke behold it, her big eyes shining in the noxious purple of the storm. He wasn’t going to waste the time they didn’t have.

She finally looked back at him, and he realized how close her face was. How the freckle on her lip was more red than brown. How her skin was creamy like grass-fed cow’s milk. How he knew he shouldn’t kiss her now. But his calloused fingers padded her jaw, sliding up and down to feel the velvet of her cheek. He mostly looked at her mouth, but he met her eyes at the end of the sentence: “I want to kiss you when I know we have tomorrow.”

Bellamy leaned in, the hot sweat of him filling her nose. He pressed his lips to the skin in front of her ear… to the square of her jaw… the soft plush of her cheek… the side of her nose… her chin. The last one made his breath audibly catch in his throat, and he ducked his head down to make himself stop. His own cheek twitched as the teeth gritted in his mouth. He clamped his eyes shut to regain control of his will.

He felt her hands encircle his face, silky fingers gliding over his ears and a ring finger stroking the scar on his lip. “And I want to kiss you NOW because we forfeited our tomorrows.” He forced a breath out through his nose, and right when he opened his eyes, her lips were brushing his. He jolted back, breathing “Clarke” as she craned towards him.

But it was done. One of her hands fisted the curls on his nape to bring him back, and his eyes fell shut again, eyebrows rising and palms opening in the sweet release of the pain. He gripped her upper arms, pulling her toward him desperately. One of her knees crept up to rest on his hip. The kiss was long and hard, sliding but never parting, pressing and sucking to memorize what they could before the world ended.

She broke from him to gasp, salvaging air from his own mouth. Their top lips never actually stopped touching. One bicep was hooked around her waist while the other supported her upper back, and Clarke realized he had picked her up at some point. Her toes barely brushed the ground as he held her there, his free hand lost in her braids.

Clarke couldn’t help it. When she saw that he was crying, she was done for. Her hands flew around his neck again, face reburied in what had become her favorite place in the world. Bellamy let her feet down slowly, contorting his body so she could stand on solid ground again while remaining tucked in his collar bone. They stood there, thighs crushed together and arms hugging and re-hugging each other as the cloud descended on the camp.

She couldn’t breathe first, going rigid in his arms. He sunk them both to the dirt, leaning her up against the fence as he also began to asphyxiate. He held her as tightly as possible, trying to absorb her fear into himself as she wriggled, writhed, and was still. He wasn’t far behind her, feeling the blackness choke in on his vision. Instead of fidgeting violently, he gripped her tighter and tighter, until the deafening shriek of the winds was all Bellamy Blake could fathom. Dying wrapped around her was better than any final chapter he could have written for himself.

**Author's Note:**

> I first thought of "But you counted!" and now we're here. This is why we can't have nice things.  
> Find me on Tumblr - @teambingewatch  
> Thanks for reading!!!


End file.
